Since she was conceived on a homestead,

she wanted to speak cow,

particularly when they lay

in daylight on the *****

beyond the oil well.


At that point she wanted to talk wild rose,

the one that developed beneath the horse shelter,

it appeared to address her

of everything she couldn't yet have

or know, yet she proved unable

to address it, even of it, for a considerable length of years.


At that point she want to speak plantation

where pears turned the ground gold,

where yellow coats swarmed,

where she couldn't go alone.

A long time later, markets were more secure,

she overlooked this one.


Others she always remember—the lake

with its trim edge of *******, the foot

prints of cows and steeds along the edge

making a kind of writing.


The roughage that clung to her dad

and siblings, following into their sweat

as they worked in August

to bring it into the horse shelter,

where notes of it hung

in that house of God.


Also, the magic her mom worked

with peaches, tomatoes, green beans,

how her little hands turned them

always delightful—sparkling in the basement,

glowing on the dinner table

Listen, the world stated,

Listen !

Few people can be believed
The lips are packed with lies
Words fall as if manœuvred
To benefit selfishness’s world.

I carry the dust of deceitful
tongues, swollen, diseased
Where is cleanliness left?
‘The dog’s bowl at the door’.

Love Mary ***

I am broken
I've finally snapped
What was holding me together
Is almost gone
Though I thought it may stick forever
I am broken
I feel the pain
My past thoughts have become vain
The way I feel, is considered
Inconsiderate
The way I act, is that of a broken man
This was not my plan
To be in agony
I don't want to deal with it angrily
I feel trapped by the gravity
In this hell ridden galaxy
I start to see the vanity
Of this reality
My anger and insanity
My depression and my humanity
It's all been revealed
I may never be healed
I am broken
My words are now outspoken.

The moon speaks in glyphs
on the faces of young girls,
where miracles tear
at their souls,
rescue is nigh and
ignorance is bliss.
in the dead end of the red carpet
selling flowers hustling for gold.

Laying in my bed curled up
Acid in my throat because I didn’t eat
Clenching my fists around my blankets because I can’t sleep

Are you thinking of me?
Laying in a tent, uncomfortably,
Snuggling close to your fluffy white dog or your younger brother to stay warm.

Are you missing me?
No. Not the way I’m missing you
You’re not thinking of me the way I’m thinking of you
And though it means the world to me that a beautiful soul like yours is friends with a storm cloud like me, it shatters my heart into thousands of sharp, jagged pieces that you’re
~ just ~
my friend.

“I’m sorry but I need to know, is it mutual? It’s alright if it’s a no, I can handle it, I just want you...to be honest”
A pause...
Then the raindrop falls.
“Right now, it’s a no”

Ripples.
Right now.
Right now.
Right now.
No.
No.
No.
STOP.
I care about you so much, I know I need to let you go, so you would never read this, and I would never show anyone this.
It’s all swirling around in my chest, faster and faster until it explodes, word ***** and tears.
I love you.

I didn’t tell you I loved you, only that I had feelings for you.
Why bother? It would’ve made things more painful for me, more bitter for you.

But I can’t show you this.
I don’t want you to change.
I don’t want you to change the way you speak to me, to change your mind when you’re about to type a heart emoji,
to stop yourself after just saying “goodnight” and leave out the “baby”

This is my undoing, not yours, and I want you to keep letting me be your anchor, your shoulder, your shield, my open arms waiting to catch you when you tumble from your flight.
I can’t keep loving you, I can’t stop loving you.
I want to stop feeling at all.